Tops and Water-lilies
by ChibiKenshin
Summary: The story of Shinta and the last few days with his parents.


"Here you go, oka-san." Shinta brought his mother a small bowl of miso soup. He was young, but he had already learned how to cook a simple pot of miso soup. And he had to, now that both of his parents were feeling a bit weak as of late. He returned to the big steaming pot and poured another bowl. He had forgotten the spoon in the pot, which had now gotten hot to the touch. But he had to feed his parents. He gripped the spoon as tightly as possible, gritting his teeth at the pain. 'They have to be fed....they have to be fed...' was the chant that continuously ran throught his mind.  
  
"And one for you too, oto-san." He smiled to cover up the grimacing pain of his hand. He was always like this. His pain was not important when those around him were happy. It was their smiles and sounds of joy that made that pain seem worthless to worry. Plus they would heal eventually. It was the internal bruises that never really healed.  
  
"You're adopted!" A young boy with scruffy brown hair, much taller than him, pushed him towards another boy, who then pushed him on to another one. It was a like a game of "Pass the Shinta".  
  
"No I'm not!" Shinta fell to the ground, sending dust flying into the air.  
  
"Oh yeah? You have red-hair and your parents don't. And your eyes are a different colour." It was true, no one had ever really seen a boy with such a red shock of hair, nor eyes such a blue-violet, like the colour of irises. Shinta only sat there in the dust; what COULD he say in his defense? When he really thought about it, he realized it was true. He lowered his head, his red bangs hiding his face from the boys.  
  
"Oh, look." A rather thin boy with spiky blonde hair stood akimbo. "He's going to cry."  
  
"I'm. Not. Going. To. Cry!" With those words, Shinta sent a swift kick towards his shin and ran home, leaving the poor boy yelping and shouting in pain. His mother stood at the door waiting for him, as it was almost time for lunch. She chuckled, patting the dust out of his clothes, causing him to sneeze. She questioned how he got so dirty, but he only said that he had tripped and fell.  
  
After lunch, he thanked his mother for the meal and returned outside. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and headed towards the one big tree that was close to the house. He overturned a rock and took out his hidden stash of a few coins. It was his mother's birthday today and he wanted to get something nice, but he had no clue on what to get. He went from store to store, discplining himself that he shouldn't spend it on the nice sweets that he saw. In the window of one of the stores, something caught his eye. It was a top, decorated with small butterflies of various colours. And on the top were small multi-coloured spirals that swirled to the centre. He went inside and questioned the store owner for the price. It was exactly half the price of all the money he had. He thought that if he got his mother something so nice, his father might feel down for not getting a present. So Shinta decided to buy 2 tops. The other had birds siting on branches of sakura trees. He hid them inside his hakama and hurried home. He was so happy that he believed it would be difficult to keep it a secret.  
  
It soon came to dinner, and Shinta waited outside for his father to return home. When he came into view, he saw him carrying a small wooden bucket with water, filled with white water-lilies; they were his mother's favourite flowers. She kissed her husband on the cheek for the flowers and set them close to the window so the wind would carry the scent throughout the house  
  
At the end of dinner, Shinta smiled proudly and told his mother happy birthday, pulling the top from his hakama. She giggled, glad that her son had actually gotten her present, but also at what he had decided to buy her. It's not that she didn't like it; she hadn't played with a top in a long time. She placed it on the table and pulled the string, the colours whirling around. His father patted his head, and commented on the wonderful choice of the present.  
  
"Don't worry, oto-san. I didn't want you to be sad that I got oka-san something so pretty....so I got you one too." He pulled the second one out and placed it in his father's hand. The parents looked at each other and laughed. 'Where had they gotten such a loving son from?!' was the question that ran through both of their minds. He thanked Shinta and pulled the string on his top as well.  
  
The rest of the evening was spent having top-races, that varied from which one spun the longest to which top would go farthest across the table. When it got close to bedtime, they hugged Shinta and thanked him for the wonderful presents. Shinta smiled as he got that warm and fuzzy feeling he always enjoyed. But his smile didn't last long.  
  
"Am I adopted?"  
  
They were taken aback by the question. Their eyes moved from Shinta to each other and then back to him. "Why do you ask such a dreadful question, Shinta?"  
  
"Cuz the kids say I don't look like either of you." He gripped onto his mother's kimono. "And I don't. You don't have red hair or eyes like mine." His voiced trailed off in sadness.  
  
"Well, don't listen to them. You're not adopted." Her hand ran through his hair, which always seemed to calm him down. "You can ask your father."  
  
He nodded. "I remember the day you were born. I was so nervous!" He laughed, rubbing the back of his head. "It was difficult for me to stand still. Your mother was the one who had to be holding MY hand."  
  
They all laughed, and his parents reassured him that all children go through some stage of teasing through their lives, and that they will make up anything to get on your wrong side. Shinta kissed his parents goodnight, and went to bed. However, he was so filled with joy that he found it difficult to sleep.  
  
Three days later, they had begun to feel the weakness, and that had started a week and half ago. Shinta had tried his best to restore their health, but they steadily declined. And since his father was sick, Shinta had to be running small errands in order to buy the few supplies he could gather for his parents, never thinking about himself.  
  
"Shinta, you need to eat." his mother commented weakly. He was always giving his parents two to three bowls of soup, while he only took half a bowl for himself. He was not the one that was sick; he wanted his parents to get better.  
  
One night, they pulled Shinta between them and told him that when the sun rose the next morning, he should go to the neighbours, who were close friends of theirs. He asked why, but they hesitated with their answer.  
  
"Shinta....we're not going to get any better.....and you've done more than enough for both of us. We're so proud of you." They hugged him tightly, fearing what would happen to him now that he wouldn't be in their care anymore.  
  
"But....but you need to you! Love never dies, right?" Tears filled Shinta's eyes as he shook his head. "You can't die! I love you!"  
  
"Yes....we know that, Shinta." They looked at each other, realizing that they too were also crying. "But just because we're not going to be here anymore doesn't mean we're going to stop loving you." He muttered an ok between his sniffles and nuzzled between them. And they slept together for the last time.  
  
Shinta felt heavyness in his eyelids when he awoke. The sky was beginning to change to it's orange hues, and he remembered what he had been told. He carefully squeezed between the two, trying his best not to disturb them. He ran to get one of the tops from the table and ran back to where they slept. He placed the top on the ground between the two and first placed his mother's hand on it, and then his father's on top of hers. He pressed his lips to each other knuckles, which were now a bit dry and cold.  
  
"Goodbye oto-san, oka-san." He took the remaining top from the table and stood at the doorway, taking in the image of his parents, lying there in the darkness. "I love you." He spotted the flowers on the sill, most of them had dried out and began to turn brown, all except a small white bud that was growing from a new stalk. He broke off the new branch and placed it into the pond. "I always will." And he gazed at the small bud drift away from the edge towards the middle.  
  
A small white spot in the middle of black water.  
  
  
  
*sighs* Even I was feeling a bit emotional as I wrote this fic. Hope you enjoyed it. And that blonde-headed kid. Yep, you got it. Katanagari Chou. ) 


End file.
